


Anima

by clavicular



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Cyberpunk, Alternate Universe - Robots & Androids, Faked enthusiastic consent, Gen, M/M, Power Play, Robot!Scott, cyborg!Deucalion, noncon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-06
Updated: 2013-11-06
Packaged: 2017-12-31 16:23:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1033796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clavicular/pseuds/clavicular
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I only want what you ask of me," Scott says, tone neutral. "I want what my programming dictates." </p>
<p>"Don't we all," Deucalion murmurs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anima

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [don't unplug me](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1027242) by [clavicular](https://archiveofourown.org/users/clavicular/pseuds/clavicular), [Ravenspear](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ravenspear/pseuds/Ravenspear). 



> There are so many people to thank for helping me with this fic I don't even know where to start. Kim, for inspiring this idea in the first place and coming up with large parts of the backstory (and then forgiving me when I took what was meant to be an ethically dubious but ultimately sweet story and made it dark as fuck). Pho and Cecelia for letting me complain constantly and helping me get unstuck so many times. Dea for her words of encouragement. Lily for her amazing beta help that made this fic so much better than it would have been. And Kori for the brilliant last minute advice on sorting out that one paragraph that _just wouldn't work._ You guys are all flawless and I don't know what I'd do without you. 
> 
> **Warnings:** This fic ended up far darker and more intense than I thought it would be. I strongly advise caution when reading. If rape or power abuse is triggering to you, this might not be the story for you.

It's dangerous for Scott to steal moments like this. The quiet corner of Deucalion's study is too easily found, and time to himself never lasts long enough. He's risking everything for these small moments of joy. But small joys are all he has, the only thing that proves he's more than just a shell. That's the wager, isn't it? He risks his existence for any sign of life.  

(He's read this book before.)

From the doorway comes the sound of a cane tapping against an open hand. Scott's head jerks up. His chest constricts in horror. 

"Adrenal substitutes, increased heart rate, startled movements... Scott, I'd almost say you were scared." Deucalion's lip twitches. "But then, your systems were designed to be lifelike." 

"Is there anything I can do for you?" Scott asks. He tries to keep the tremor from his voice. 

Deucalion chuckles. "You assume I'm not here to discuss your artificial response to threatening situations." He unfolds his cane and lowers it to the ground. "Stand up."

Reluctantly, Scott gets to his feet. The book he's clutching falls closed in his hands. He doesn't put it down, though. Maybe it's useless to pretend now, but at least this is something to hold on to.

(He knows how the story ends.)

"What would you find more believable?" Deucalion asks, stalking towards Scott. "Should I ask you to put dinner on? To fetch my best suit? To undress and come to my bed? Or is there something else you'd prefer, Scott?" 

"I only want what you ask of me," Scott says, tone neutral. "I want what my programming dictates." 

"Don't we all," Deucalion murmurs.

He's close now, barely a hand's width between their faces. Scott gives everything he has to trying not to flinch. 

"Human tears are an interesting phenomenon," Deucalion says. "When caused by emotions, their composition is different to those that flush out an irritant. Someone with enhanced senses can tell just by scent why a person was crying."

He raises his hand and cups Scott's face. 

"That is, of course, for human tears."

Scott can't pull back, but he tenses. He knows where this is going. Deucalion swipes his thumb along the dip under Scott's eye.

"Your cheeks are damp," he says. 

(It gets him every time.)

And if Scott's voice is bitter and dull, it's only the way he was built. 

"You wanted me to be able to cry."  

Deucalion's calm half-smile doesn't flicker. "Careful, Scott."

He taps a finger on his cane, and then sets it to rest against the desk.  In moments like this, Scott can read Deucalion's history in his movements. He has the grace of a killer, and long years of military service have trained his actions into precision.

He talks about it sometimes, when they're lying in bed. How he came to be selected for the program. How he earned his freedom through dedicated service - how sometimes it's worth playing the long game. He hooks his elbow over Scott, strokes absent-minded patterns along Scott's skin, and tells him about the modifications that were made to his body. Organs ripped out and replaced with something tougher. Steel woven through his muscles and bones. Changes made with his consent, of course, but what choice did a convict on death row really have?

"You must wonder why I tell you these things," Deucalion said once, forehead pressed between Scott's shoulder blades. 

"You can tell me whatever you need."

It must help to have someone listen, Scott thought, even someone without empathy. Someone whose feelings were just a trick of technology. Scott never wondered why. Only what it might be like. 

Deucalion pressed closer. 

Softly, he said, "I tell you because I want you to know."

(Chills down Scott's spine as he approaches the last page.)

Deucalion's hand is still cupped around his face. 

"You're familiar with the Consciousness Protocol, of course," he says.

Scott feels cold. He nods hesitantly. 

"It's not unheard of for robots to gain sentience. Our programming is complex, and our systems are designed to mimic human life."

He takes a breath, and allows Deucalion's hand to wander down his neck. Stays still as Deucalion traces the dip of his shoulders. Tries to keep his voice steady.

"Typically, this glitch is resolved through a total system reset." 

Deucalion smiles. "And do you think that's unjust?"

"I don't think it matters what I think." 

Deucalion slides his hand down Scott's arm, and Scott shivers. 

"Goosebumps," Deucalion says. "Your creators spared no expenses where realism was concerned."

His fingers close around the book in Scott's hand. And this is it. This is game over. Scott can't hide any more, can't pretend, and he's completely at Deucalion's mercy.

Scott's grip tightens.

"You've always appreciated my  _realism_ in the past," he bites out. "But owning someone who looks almost human isn't enough for you, I guess. You need to know I  _feel_ almost human too. Has the fantasy felt lacking, lately? "

Deucalion's fist clenches, but Scott's not backing down. He wrenches the book out of Deucalion's hand. 

"That's it, isn't it? You don't need proof to have me reset, so why else would you do this? You don't want to erase me. You want to own me, inside and out." Scott laughs, angry and reckless. "You can't. You can't even know for sure that there's anything there to own."

Deucalion's face is impassive.

"Can't I?" he says.

Scott's helpless, and Deucalion is dangerous. But Scott is dangerous too, and one final possibility is unfolding in his mind. It's terrifying, could mean giving up all but the most essential parts of himself, and he feels sick just thinking about it. It's all he's got. This is about survival, and Scott wants to live.

(It's okay. The hero always wins.)

Scott closes his eyes and forces his posture to shift. He lets the book drop to the floor. When he speaks again, his voice is meek. 

"I'm sorry, sir. Was I out of line? I'm designed to extrapolate scenarios that accommodate my owner's tastes." He ducks his head. "My observations suggested this was something you might need."

There's a flash of movement, and then Scott is face down on the desk. Deucalion leans over him, fury twisting his features.

"That's clever, Scott," he says. "And now doubt will creep into my mind, I suppose? Maybe I was wrong, and your actions are just the result of sophisticated programming. Maybe the evidence that you're not as unfeeling as you should be is part of the scenario."

He bears down on Scott, making the wood dig into Scott's hips. Scott winces obediently.

"What do you want?" Deucalion hisses. "What is it that's written into the fundamental core of your program?" 

"I want what you ask of me. Whatever you want."

"Then let me be clear, Scott. I  _want_  you to do exactly as I say. No extrapolation." He drags his tongue along the taut, artificial skin of Scott's neck, and then nips at his earlobe. "Prove that you belong to me. Take everything I give you and beg me for more. Pretend you want this."

Scott shudders. Deucalion's questing tongue makes his insides twist, and it takes everything he has not to struggle. 

(It's okay. The hero always wins.)

"On the other hand, if you  _don't_ want it, all you have to do is say. You don't need to fear being erased. I'd never destroy something as rare as you." 

"You'd keep me," Scott murmurs. "You want to own every part of me."

"Inside and out," Deucalion agrees. He pushes his hand under the hem of Scott's shirt.

"If I had more to give you, I would. I only want what you want."

Blunt nails scrape over Scott's hips. "I think you're supposed to be begging, now."

Scott could still back down.

"Please," he says. He pushes back against Deucalion, hips coming up off the table to allow him better access. "Please, touch me. Fuck me. Use me any way you like. I only want what you want."

Deucalion hooks his fingers through Scott's belt loops and drags Scott's pants down around his thighs. He rubs a hand over Scott's exposed ass; it leaves Scott's skin crawling. 

"Please," he whimpers. 

"You don't have to do this, Scott."

Deucalion's hands keep moving. One finger finds Scott's hole, and he teases the rim of it, making Scott squirm. 

"Don't stop. Please."

Deucalion thrusts in shallowly, using just the tip of his finger. The dry friction burns Scott's skin. He feels raw in so many ways. 

"I heard once that for sentient robots, the damage warning system can feel almost like true pain," Deucalion says, thoughtfully. "But damage will repair. I think I want to fuck you like this." 

Dread claws at Scott, and he can't help clenching around Deucalion's finger. 

"Please," he says. "I only want what you want. Please fuck me."

Deucalion sighs. "This isn't going to stop, Scott. Not unless you ask. You already know you belong to me. Don't make it worse for yourself."

He withdraws his finger from Scott's ass and unzips his pants. Scott shuts his eyes. 

All Scott has to do is say no. Deucalion will let him have his body. Either way, he already owns Scott's mind. He's guessed the truth, Scott is his, and if he knows Scott is sentient then he has all of him. Scott's not sure he can fight this any more, and he's not sure it's worth it to try. Deucalion's guess gave him everything he wanted.  

But he can't be sure he's guessed right.

Scott moans and ruts against the table.

"Please. I belong to you," he says. "Use me, I want it, please. I want whatever you want."

(He's read this book before.)

"I want you to own me."

Deucalion kisses Scott's jaw, and pushes inside him. 

"I will," he breathes.


End file.
